


Across the Universe

by Curator



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: Picard, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, consent is all over the map, nothing graphic though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26484025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curator/pseuds/Curator
Summary: Rare pair ficlets that bring together Star Trek characters from different shows for love, lust … or revenge.
Relationships: Agnes Jurati/Original Universe Gabriel Lorca, Beverly Crusher/Kashyk, Elim Garak/Mortimer Harren, Joshua Albert/Raffi Musiker, Kira Nerys/Seska, Michael Burnham/Chakotay, Narissa | Lieutenant Rizzo/Seska
Comments: 47
Kudos: 19
Collections: Voyager Bit Parts and Cameos, XOs for the XOs





	1. Kira Nerys/Seska: It All Makes Sense

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cnroth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cnroth/gifts), [MiaCooper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaCooper/gifts), [SeemaG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeemaG/gifts).



> Appreciation beyond the bounds of time and space to cnroth, MiaCooper, and SeemaG — my rare pair prompters, multishipping pals, and wonderful fandom friends.

It makes sense. It does. Really. 

“I know the Maquis are a great cause, Ses. I’m just going to miss you.” It’s windy at the shuttle landing site, and Kira tucks a breeze-tossed lock of Seska’s hair behind her ear. “But that’s my problem, okay?”

They have been living side-by-side, fighting side-by-side, sleeping side-by-side — for so long. 

It’s incredible, actually. Whether Kira would push tears away with her fingertips when talking about the death of her mother or tremble with the power of her own hatred when confiding how killing a Cardassian felt so good, so _right_ , Seska always listened.

But the Maquis are doing important work, and the resistance was lucky to have had Seska. She has a knack for picking locks, finding empty rooms with needed documents, figuring out Cardassian supply lines. 

She also just so happens to have lips that bring Kira to trembles and breasts that fit perfectly in Kira’s hands.

But Kira can’t justify placing petty pleasures above the importance of her lover … ex-lover … leaving to keep fighting the fight that means so much to both of them. 

“You’ve been incredibly special to me, Nerys.” Seska’s arms snake around Kira’s midsection. “I’ll miss your wealth of knowledge about the Bajoran people.”

Kira’s forehead creases. “What?”

“I mean,” Seska speaks quickly, “since my parents died when I was so young, you’ve taught me more about myself than I ever could have imagined.”

Of course.

Seska always explains things until they make sense. 

There’s an embrace, a lingering last kiss, and hand waves until a shuttle disappears. 

And, standing alone at the wind-whipped landing site, Kira is left to wonder, without Seska, will anything ever make sense again?


	2. Elim Garak/Mortimer Harren: A Perfect Fit

Harren isn’t pleased with the cut of his uniform. 

Not pleased at all. 

It’s bad enough that he has to endure a year in space before he can qualify for the truly important theoretical work more suited to his intelligence. But if he has to wear the uniform, then it should, at least, be comfortable. 

He strides through DS9, searching for the tailor shop. He doesn’t hear the Cardassian approaching, but when an exquisite voice says, “Please tell me you’re going to have those sleeves lengthened, my dear,” Mortimer Harren turns and sees the most beautiful, intelligent, _sensual_ brown eyes he has ever encountered.


	3. Beverly Crusher/Kashyk: Pas de Deux

Deep in the control center of the facility for suspected telepaths, a slim vial of purple liquid turns over and over in black-gloved fingers.

"I'm most impressed with your work, Doctor Beverly."

“Thank you, Kashyk.”

She watches the tumbling liquid. How long did it take her to create the serum? She isn’t sure. All her methods to track time have failed.

Maybe she was kidnapped by the Devore months ago.

Maybe it's been years.

He had noticed her shiver the first time he called her "Doctor Beverly," and the name has twisted from his lips ever since.

How could he not have noticed?

Her neck had been under his knee.

"And any telepath of any species will be killed by inhaling this ... what do you call it, again?" His brown eyes fix on her blue ones.

"Pas de deux."

She has learned that as cultured as he is when it comes to music, to opera, to stage plays — Kashyk knows almost nothing about dance.

She has wondered, during the few nights he has allowed her to sleep without his arm tight around her ribcage, if this ignorance is due to the wordless communication between dancers, their ability to speak without speaking, to indicate to a partner exactly what to do next.

Almost like telepathy.

"Pas de deux, indeed," he says, and uncorks the vial. "Let us give it a try."

He trusts her.

She's sure of that.

It had been easier than she'd expected to flatter his ego. She's practiced at keeping her wit buried, after all, her feelings locked under cover.

And she knows how to pace herself, to save her energy for the finale.

He pours, and purple liquid disappears into an environmental systems intake valve.

She waits a beat.

He falls.

All the Devore fall, like the castle court dancers in a production of _Sleeping Beauty_ once the Lilac Fairy casts her spell.

She pulls the phaser from his waist, taps the comm system to project her voice across the entire facility, and tells the telepaths, "You're free. We're getting out of here."

Pas de deux is a dance between two people.

Kashyk made the mistake of thinking he was in the lead.


	4. Agnes Jurati/Original Universe Gabriel Lorca: The Chroniton Confectionery, est. 1986

They don’t theorize about the temporal anomaly anymore. 

He doesn’t talk about Kat. 

She doesn’t talk about Bruce. 

They do talk about the bakery. About flour and powdered sugar and how one of the ovens has been uneven lately. She suggests replacing the heat element, spending the money they had been saving for their trip to Japan.

“But you said you missed Okinawa.” He wipes floury hands on his apron. “You were so sure the view of the East China Sea would be the same.”

“Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t.” She shrugs slightly, smiles at him. “I guess I got used to another view.”

He grins — pleased, a little bashful. Then he dots her nose with flour and they get back to work. 


	5. Narissa | Lieutenant Rizzo/Seska: I’ll See You in Hell

They laugh often.

“Curved ears!”

“Arced eyebrows!”

“Weak foreheads!”

At that last one, Narissa usually throws a pillow, almost always hitting Seska square in the cranial ridges. 

“You love my forehead. You forgive me all my more ...” Narissa’s hands guide Seska’s fingers to stroke a neck that is smooth and slim “... human-like features.”

Seska’s purr is from deep in her throat. “I do. I really do.”

And they stop joking about what it was like to stuff themselves into such disgusting, _human_ forms ... and start enjoying the forms they have.


	6. Joshua Albert/Raffi Musiker: Sweater Weather

Josh blushes and stammers when he invites Raffi to join him and his Nova Squadron pals on a ski trip.

It’s toward the end of the semester and she figures why not.

But when Josh steps away from the lodge replicator to accept Wesley’s proffered two-sizes-too-small ugly-knit to replace Josh’s forgotten sweater, Raffi is smitten. Josh would do anything for a friend, and that makes him Raffi’s kind of person.

So Josh and Raffi drink hot toddies by the lodge’s fireplace, shoulders bumping as they talk about classes and trainings and each other.

“You are so beautiful.” His fingertip traces her cold-chapped lips. 

They tie the ugly-knit on the doorknob of the room they all share. 

He touches her like her body is a gift, precious and fleeting. 

But he had it backwards, didn’t he?


	7. Michael Burnham/Chakotay: You’re My People

She loves stories about the Rubber Tree People and Sky Spirits. 

She thrills when he invites her to hold a stone from his medicine wheel. 

Yet when he offers use of his akoonah to meet her animal guide, she demurs, her eyes drifting to the viewport and the oranges and yellows of the graviton ellipse outside. 

“You don’t have to meet your animal guide if you don’t want to, Michael, but I’m curious to know why you’re not interested.” 

There is softness in his voice and tension in his shoulders — signals that he is trying to breathe through invisible wounds of loss. He’s told her about his parents’ deaths, his shattered trust in the Federation, the slaughter of his Maquis comrades.

But she has wounds, too.

“What would my animal guide be?” Her arms cross, not in anger — to protect herself as her words rip open her wounds yet again. “A Vulcan sehlat? An Earth sparrow? You have a clear heritage, a home in people and a belief system that you can call your own no matter what happens to you. I don’t.”

His chest rises and falls. “You’re right. Being raised with two identities can be confusing, even if it’s part of what makes you the strong woman you are. But you’re wrong that you don’t have people to call your own.”

She isn’t sure if he means humans or Vulcans. Then she notices his hand is out, trembling a little. 

“I’m your people, Michael,” he says. “If you want me to be.”

Their fingers lace, his shoulders relax, and she murmurs a prayer of gratitude in a broken mix of Vulcan, Federation Standard, and the tribal phrases he has taught her. Yet, somehow, she knows he understands every word.


End file.
